Two Left Feet
by karrenia
Summary: Alfred Montbank reflects on his options, or lack of same when he realizes that he is not alone inside of his hiding place. Set during vol. 1 Dragon Wing.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Belongs to the original authors and TSR Ltd; it is not mine. Set during volume 1" Dragon Wing".

"Two Left Feet" by Karen

Alfred, if given a choice, would prefer to be elsewhere than where he is right now. In fact, the overall soreness and general fatigue he feels at the moment is sending signals to his exhausted mind and body that he should have stayed home at the royal palace and not have gone off like some damn fool intrepid knight off to the rescue. Those were the type of heroes that he used to read stories about to his charge Prince Bane at night before bed time. By no stretch of the imagination does Alfred think that he resembles those story book heroes; so he can not say exactly what made him think running off to resuce had been a good idea.

As Hugh the Hand had bluntly and succincly put it, 'he'd not only burned his bridges back at the royal palace, he'd sunk the pieces in the proverbial river.  
Alfred heaved a deep and regretful sigh.

Aside from being a foolish thing to do, a hasty decision that not only jeopordized his career, his life and his general well-being; it was yet another in a long and growing list of foolish things to do.

In a sudden fit of anger Alfred lashes out his own foolishness, staring down at oversized and stubborn feet, "It's all your fault, you know."

Sprawled inside the base of the giant statue that the inhabitants of the Low Realm refer to the only visible sign he has yet sign of his vanished race, the Sartans, which gives him plenty of time to think it over. Alfred wishes that he can just stay in here,  
but even through the thick copper metal of the statue, the noise, smell, and hustle and bustle of live penetrates through into his hiding place.

To say that he is startled when a pair of small, strong hands begins to tug on his feet would be an understatement. Alfred grunts and wheezes, refusing to open his eyes and find out the identity of his companion in the dark.

The pair of hands is joined by a small, deep, but distinctly feminine voice.  
and then screaming. He can tell by the throaty sound that it's one of the Geg, uh, pardon, dwarven rebellion leaders, Jarre.

Alfred opens his eyes, removes her hands from the much abused lacy frill of shirt collar. "Please, my dear, you must calm down.

"I can't stand it!"

"What?"

"The quiet, why is it so quiet?"

"It was designed that way on purpose," he replied, before he stopped to think better of that response. He really shouldn't be blabbing away so much about his knowledge of their surroundings. Jarre's bright enough, if she's paying attention to his meandering and offhand remarks to start putting two and two together and eventually realize that he knows far more than he should about the Mangers. The Mangers are the long-vanished race of beings the Gegs, pardon, dwarves, refer to the long-vanished Sartan, than he has any right to know.

"We've gotta get out of here!" her breathing fast and shallow. It takes a bit before Alfred realizes that she's not panicking because of what just happened outside the statue.

'It was, he thinks, 'a rather inconclusive ending to a sudden riot between the two warring factions of dwarves, the foremans and Limbeck and Jarre's rebels, and he and his traveling companions, Hugh the Hand, his charge, Prince Bane. Along with Haplo and his dog, had been caught in it.

While Alfred tries to make sense out of all, piece things together,  
he realizes that there is a sudden tenseness in his skull and it hurts, so he reaches up with his free hand and feels the side of his head. When he brings it down level withh his eyes, and realizes that his hand comes away sticky with blood.

Obviously he has taken one blow to the head too many. In the back of his mind Alfred thinks, 'Well, I could perform a healing spell on myself, but I can't do it with Jarre here. After all, they are already suspicious of us, and I shouldn't use any magic, not here, not ever."


	2. Walking Around

-1Disclaimer: The Death Gate Cycle and all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned in the story are the creations of Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, and Ballantine; they are not mine, and are only 'borrowed'.

" Walking Around" by Karen

Shortly after he made his silent declaration to not use his magic Alfred Montbank realized that he would have to make some kind of decision.

After all he certainly indefinitely, trapped the base of a giant copper statue with a hysterical Jarre clutching with desperate strength to his shirt lapels.

And for her benefit, if not his own, they would have to find a way out.

Alfred, did not know whether or not he wanted to go back into the world outside of this temporary sanctuary to the world of heat and noise, and the endless pounding all pervasive clanging of the Kicksey-Winsey.

There are to many unanswered questions. His head is swimming with all of those unanswered questions; such as: what am I doing here? What am I going to do about the Patryn, Haplo? Does he suspect me of being a Sartan? And why ever was I left all alone to deal with these questions! Why me?

He mentally gave himself a kick to jumpstart his meandering thoughts and circling questions like bees buzzing around inside of his head, Alfred squared his shoulders reached up to loosen Jarre's clutch on his shirt lapels, and squinting in the dim light peeping in through hairline cracks in the metal of the statute, and then tried to face Jarre and calm her down. "Don't be afraid, Jarre, or at least don't be afraid of me. No one will harm you here.

"It's the quiet, I can't stand the quiet."

'Now that she mentioned it,' Alfred, thought, 'it is quiet in here, everywhere else in the huge subterranean world of the Low Realm, the endless grinding, pounding, whirring, clicking and wheezing of steam given of by the amazing machine built by the Sartans ages ago, the Kicksey-Winsey, can be heard. It was as much a part of the Gegs-Dwarves' lives as eating and, sleeping, and breathing. But inside the statue of the Manger it could not be heard at all. No wonder she was afraid. He'd learned that death to the Gegs is known as the 'Endless Hear Nothing.'

He discovered, much to his surprise, that he really could not find it in his heart to blame her for her fear. Suddenly a fond, but rather detached responsibility towards Jarre Alfred knew he had to take care of her, as well.

Alfred stood up, all gangly and awkward, made an odd courtly bow that made Jarre giggle, and offered her his hand. "I'll find a way out, Jarre, come with me."

"Are you sure," she asked, getting to her feet as well and accepting the hand that he held out to her. To bolster his own and Jarre's confidence. Alfred lived up to his promise to talk to her, to fill the quiet.

They began walking down, and the darkness gradually lessened as they went farther, until they could see that there were descending steps carved into the rock of the tunnels, small lamps glowing and dimming at their approach. Jarre, walking along, holding the hand of the tall awkward Alfred, whom it seemed, no longer afraid of the silence, and it in its way, it had become oddly comforting.

It was only then that she began to notice features of the tunnels. These were smooth, but certainly not featureless. In fact squiggly shapes that Alfred called runes appeared at regular intervals, and they glowed. Jarre didn't know where they were headed, just that they were looking for a way out.

"They were placed their as markers," Alfred said, gesturing at the glowing runes with his free hand.

Looking up at the lines in the man's face, Jarre realized that he did appear to be frightened of either the silence or the strangeness of their

shared situation, in fact, he looked very sad, as if something wonderful had been lost here that could never be replaced.

'But how could that be, when no one's ever been done here before?' Jarre thought.

Hours of walking, sometime later they came across a chamber branching off the main path, one of several lining the corridor of tunnels one either side. Alfred's slow, steady chatter dropped off in mid-sentence, and he paused before the entrance of the chamber. "In here." was all he said before he let go of her hand and went inside.

Jarre did not know what to expect, but certainly shed could not have anticipated an entire room full of people encased in crystal boxes.

These were not her people. The Gegs tended toward short and stocky, both males and females, these were tall slender people, like Alfred and the other strangers who had crash-landed in the Low Realm. With a great deal of hesitation Jarre crept up to one of the crystal cases and peered inside.

"All sleeping now," Alfred whispered over his shoulder, out of her direct line of sight behind of one the deeper rows. "I was hoping to find my friends, and I must confess, that it was with that intention that I guided our steps in this direction. Thank you for putting up with me, Jarre. I know that it can not have been easy for you."

"These are the friends you told me about?"

"Yes," he replied.


End file.
